Behind Every Light Shines A Shadow
by hmmga
Summary: Behind every character lies a past, a secret, or a time they just wish they could forget. Hear from companions old and new, as they reflect on some of their darkest moments. Rated T to be safe. Chapter 3: Sarah Jane Smith
1. Chapter 1

**This is my latest project, a series of one-shots that will explore the back-stories of some of the characters, both before, after and sometimes during their adventures with The Doctor. This began with an idea for a one-shot for Turlough. However, I finished this chapter first, so the Turlough one will have to wait. **

**I will be using characters from both the new and classical series, and so will occasionally provide background information at the beginning of some of the chapters.**

**Reviews would be appreciated, and I am open to requests!**

_Mike Yates was a Captain in UNIT at the time when the Doctor was exiled to earth. He was a regular character, and a good friend of both the Doctor and his assistant Jo Grant. Towards the end of the third Doctor's time on screen, Yates was hypnotised by a super computer which tried to force him to kill the Doctor during the episode _The Green Death_. In his next appearance, _Invasion of the Dinosaurs_, it was revealed that he had suffered a nervous breakdown, and was brainwashed into helping a group of scientists who wanted to reverse time. In his final appearance, _Planet of the Spiders_, Yates was attending a meditation centre where he discovered strange goings on._

**Captain Michael Yates of UNIT**

Captain Yates was well known in UNIT as being one of those you could rely on in a crisis.

So, when the Brigadier needed somebody to go undercover as a ministry man, Mike was his first port of call, and being a soldier, he literally could not refuse. Besides, it wasn't every day he got the chance to dress in a suit and wield a briefcase, and seeing the doctor 'disguised' as a cleaning lady had made the whole experience seem worth it. He had to admit he enjoyed dressing up, and the snooping around was made all the more thrilling with the thought that if he was caught he may well have been fed to the giant maggots, or whatever it was Global Chemicals were hiding.

The fun stopped very abruptly when he was hypnotised, and everything plummeted into a negative spiral.

He couldn't even remember being under hypnosis. When he had joined UNIT he had been trained to resist that sort of thing, and according to The Doctor he had been trying bloody hard. He was forever grateful that his mind was apparently strong enough for him to resist charging in with 'all guns blazing', as he suspected that murdering both the brigadier and scientific advisor of UNIT would have put rather permanent black mark on his record. The last thing he remembered was being forced into a chair in Global Chemicals, then collapsing in 'the nut-hutch', mind searing with the absolute agony that was a severed psychic connection. He had lain, dazed on the floor for several minutes as he tried to gather the strength to pull himself back into something that resembled consciousness.

He had put on a brave face when The Doctor sent him back into the Global Chemicals building, but he had actually been quaking in his boots as he tried to release another hypnotised man. Then the BOSS computer killed him right in front of his eyes.

He had forced a smile when Miss Grant had announced her engagement to Professor Jones. He couldn't deny that he was disappointed, but he could cope. He always did.

Sergeant Benton was startled awake when a scream ripped through the barracks. He sat up, disorientated. There was a moment's silence, then a cry.

Benton leapt from his bunk, his military training kicking in. He raced across the room, to where Captain Yates was tossing and turning in his blankets.

"Sir," called Benton, shaking his superior lightly on the shoulder.

The Captain flinched away from the touch, crying out again.

"Alright!" called Benton to the other men who were starting to gather round. "Private Jenkins, go and fetch the MO, the rest of you, back to bed! This doesn't need an audience."

Captain Yates turned again restlessly, sweat pooling on his forhead.

"Sir! Mike, wake up!"

Yates started awake, and stared around wildly.

"No! I won't… I can't…"

"Mike, take it easy, you're safe."

"Benton," he mumbled, shivering. Benton put a hand to his forehead, but Yates didn't have a temperature.

"It's alright, sir," he said helplessly. Mike settled back on his pillow. Benton said nothing more until the MO arrived, and he had to persuade Yates to go to the infirmary.

The brigadier sighed at the mountain of paperwork as Benton strode in, a tray of coffee balanced in his arms.

"Good morning Benton,"

"Morning, sir,"

"Benton…" he looked up and stared at the Sergeant.

"It happened again," he stated. Benton nodded. "Benton, this has been going on all week."

"Yes sir. Actually… the MO wanted me to talk to you. He wants me to wrangle a bit of sick leave for Captain Yates."

"Sick leave? The Medical Officer needs to approach me himself, Benton."

So Benton hurried to fetch Doctor Oliver, and the brigadier listened as the man jabbered on about the after effects of hypnosis, psychological stress and nervous breakdowns. Eventually he had had enough, and held up a hand.

"Very well," he said. "Captain Yates can take all the time he needs."

In hindsight, thought Mike, the time off had pretty much been his undoing. He hadn't liked to admit it, but he was vulnerable, and Charles Grover had taken full advantage of that. The worst bit about the second bout of brain washing was that it had been partly voluntary. The business with the dinosaurs was all his fault. He had nearly been responsible for the rewriting of history, and the slaughter of billions of people.

Soon afterwards however, he had been forced to cut all ties with UNIT, and he was pushed back into civilian life. If the breakdown had been difficult, dealing with this was impossible. He was conditioned as a soldier now. Without his orders, his instructions, he was lost, drifting through life. He was used to trouble finding him at UNIT, a life that was spent under near constant danger, always bustling from one place to another. It was ironic that now all that was gone, he was still failing to find peace.

For a while, the meditation centre had been his salvation. But then he had uncovered a plot involving giant spiders that wanted to take over the world, and as usual The Doctor had saved the day before swanning off with Sarah.

And for Mike, everything disintegrated once more.

The brigadier looked on as Benton answered the phone.

"UNIT HQ, this is Sergeant Benton," he said.

There was a pause.

"I see, and how is that…"

Another pause; and Benton turned white as a sheet. His knees buckled, but as the Brigadier darted forwards he managed to catch himself and keep himself upright. He put the phone down abruptly.

"Sir, they… they found a body in the Thames."

Alastair jumped to his feet, alarmed.

"Is it The Doctor?"

"No sir, it's… it's Cap- I mean, Mr Yates, sir. He's dead."

"Yates?" he sat down again swiftly. "What happened?"

"Eyewitnesses say that he jumped off a bridge, sir. He killed himself."

"I see," the Brigadier placed his head in his hands. Benton couldn't help thinking the man suddenly looked ten years older. He ducked out of the room quietly, his heart sinking. How was he supposed to tell the others? The Doctor and Miss Smith had been good friends with the captain, and Jo in particular had been very attached to him. She would be devastated.

He sighed and adjusted his beret. He couldn't shake off the feeling that this was all UNIT's fault. Life went on; perhaps he should let it, he needed a change. Maybe it was time for him to get out of UNIT.

He hardly noticed the soldiers bustling around him as he walked, deep in thought. He could visit his Uncle Bill, who sold antique cars in Somerset. He was talking about retiring, and for a while he had been not-so-subtly hinting that he needed a nice young man to take over the business…

He nodded to himself. He had a few days of leave next week; he would go down then, see what was what.

Besides, he had always been partial to vintage mechanics ever since he had driven The Doctor's old car. At least the ones in Somerset would not have been 'modified'.

**A/N: to my knowledge, Yates was never mentioned again on screen. While the fifth doctor did once ask after Benton and Harry Sullivan, he did not bring up Yates, which makes me think something terrible had happened.**

**DISCLAIMER: all things Doctor Who belong to the BBC.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Vislor Turlough was a companion of the fifth doctor. A native of the planet Trion, he was exiled to Earth after a civil war. While travelling with the Doctor he showed a strong dislike of planet Earth, and this my idea of why that was._

**Junior Ensign Vislor Turlough of Trion**

"Well, Turlough," said the headmaster, setting down his pen. "I'm sure it will be lovely to have you hear at Brendon, and I hope you will prove a valuable member of the school…"

Turlough sneezed, his nose dripping.

"Are you alright, boy? That's a nasty cold."

"'M fine," he gasped, and coughed slightly. The headmaster frowned, but went back to his welcoming speech.

By the afternoon the mystery illness had progressed into what the matron identified as 'full-blown bronchitis'.

So Turlough spent his first night on earth in the sickbay.

The next time it happened, he was in the middle of class. He had been feeling funny for a few hours, but now the headache appeared to have reached its peak. He rubbed his eyes as he struggled with the normally simple physics, his vision blurring.

"Turlough!" rang the school master's voice, making him wince. "You're not concentrating! Get up here, boy!"

He groaned inwardly, knowing he was in for a caning. However as he reached his feet he swayed and his vision turned black.

When he came around he was back in the sickbay, peering into the matron's worried gaze. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his sheets were cool to the touch.

"Mr Roberts!" she called. "He's awake!"

The science teacher's face appeared in his line of vision, and for a moment in his fevered haze Turlough was worried that he was in for another beating. It wasn't until a few days later that he would be lucid enough to realise that the apparent anger-lines on his face were actually concern.

"Gave us a fright there, boy," he said, but to Turlough it sounded as though his voice was coming from a long way away. As the blackness began to close around him once more all he heard was a muffled shout: "Matron, he's going under again."

When he next woke the room was in semi-darkness, and there was a damp cloth on his forehead. The matron was still sat next to him.

"Hello, young man," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"I… I…"

"Take it easy. That was quite a fever you had, I've never seen anything like it."

It isn't until the next week that Turlough works out what's going on. Once again he's woken up with a sore throat and snotty nose, and is being cooped up inside while the other boys charge around playing rugger. Not that he particularly enjoyed the sport, but it was a good way to vent his anger on the earthlings, and make it look like an accident. One of the teachers had led him to the library, remarking that 'he might as well do something useful with his time', and now he was wandering the shelves, looking for something decent to read. None of the so-called 'factual' books were worth his time, and he wondered vaguely what the fiction of this world was like. He scanned the titles for a while until one caught his eye.

_War of the Worlds, HG Wells._

He picked it up and flicked it open. Might be good for a laugh.

He chuckled when he read the (wholly inaccurate) description of the Martians, and rolled his eyes at the human's pathetic attempts to resist the invasion. And as for the ending… it was completely ridiculous. Any race that could completely destroy a world would hardly be defeated by –

He stopped, and flicked to the back of the book again, reading intently. The 'aliens' had never been exposed to earth infections, and were therefore susceptible… he sighed. Now he understood why he was being constantly ill. Trion viruses and bacteria were very different to earth ones. He scowled. Just one more thing for him to hate about Earth.

The brigadier was concerned about the new boy. Turlough had barely appeared in class, and when he did he paid no attention to the lesson. The other teachers had begun to give up on him as a bad job, but _nothing_ defeated Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stuart. He sat at the front of the room, watching thoughtfully as the red-haired boy stared off into space, paying no attention to his prep. Now that he came to study him properly, the brigadier realised there was something off about the boy, he looked downright miserable. This wasn't unusual for many boys at boarding school, but he could tell that this was more than a stint of homesickness. Turlough was very clearly ill.

When prep came to an end, he called the boy over to him as the others filed out of the room.

"Turlough?"

The boy turned, defiantly staring him down. The brigadier was downright alarmed at the fire in his eyes, but did his best not to show it. To admit that he, Lethbridge-Stuart was intimidated by a teenage boy was out of the question. And yet… he had a military air about him that the brigadier recognised. He did not know how, or where, but the boy the other teachers marked as a scoundrel and trouble maker had seen the battlefield in all its horror and glory.

"Yes sir?"

There it was. The response of a soldier. Trying to disregard this, he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, and began scribbling a note.

"I want you to take this to matron, boy, and not leave until she's finished with you."

"Yes sir," said Turlough, resignation written all over his face. He took the note, and left the room.

At dinner it was announced that the whole school was now in quarantine. Turlough had come down with the measles.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sarah-Jane Smith (& Harry)**

"Miss Smith?" said Benton's voice down the phone. "Are you still there? I know it's a bit of a shock."

Sarah Jane couldn't answer, a tear running down her cheek.

"Miss Smith?"

She hung up, but the phone rang again almost instantly. She answered in anyway.

"No, listen, Miss Smith, you don't have to answer me but I'm on my way up. I'll be there in three hours. Look after yourself."

The dialling tone sounded, and she placed the phone back on its cradle before returning to the sofa.

"Mum, I can't find my…" began Luke, charging down the stairs. He stopped at the lounge door.

"Mum?"

At his voice Sarah Jane's defences slipped, and suddenly there was a tear rolling down her face, then another and another…

"Mum, what's the matter?"

Luke wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"What happened?"

"It's Harry," she whispered. "He's dead."

_The first time Harry had kissed her was when he picked her up in Aberdeen. She had just been left stranded by the Doctor, and he was the first person she rang to pick her up. He found her, hours later huddled in a bus shelter._

"_Hello old girl," he said softly, pulling up by the curb. She didn't answer him, climbing into the passenger seat without a word._

"_I called ahead and booked us a couple of rooms for the night," he continued, unfazed by her silence. "We'll start out for London tomorrow."_

_She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. If he saw them he didn't comment. A few moments later they pulled up at a small B&B._

"_Here we are," he said, and he helped her collect all her bags. They stood facing each other in the small car park, and examined each other properly for the first time._

"_I say, old girl," he exclaimed. "What an extraordinary get-up."_

_Her lips twitched as she remembered she was still wearing her Andy-Pandy outfit._

"_You look exhausted," she told Harry._

"_You don't look much better," he said accusingly, but his eyes were twinkling._

"_The pair of us must look a right state,"_

_He laughed at this, and brought up a hand to cup her cheek. Before she could react, he pressed his lips quickly to hers, and grabbed her hand._

"_Come on then," he said, swinging her around after him. "Let's go and try to persuade the _very pleasant _lady in the B&B that you haven't just crashed down from out of space."_

_That night, Sarah couldn't sleep, and she found herself sneaking across the corridor._

"_Harry!" she whispered. "Are you awake?"_

_There was a low mumble from behind the door that she took to be a 'yes', and she slipped inside._

"_Sarah," he said sleepily. "What can I do for you?"_

_She crossed the floor quickly, and slipped under the covers. For years afterwards, she would be grateful that he was wearing pyjamas._

"_Sarah… what are you doing?"_

"_I couldn't sleep. Can I stay here tonight?"_

"_It's hardly proper."_

_She sighed in exasperation. "Please, Harry."_

_He looked uncertain, but he shifted over anyway and allowed her to snuggle up to him. _

Sergeant Benton knocked on the door of 13 Bannerman Road, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He was even more put off when it was answered by a teenage boy.

"Um, hello, is Miss Smith in?"

"Mum's in the living room."

Benton resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows; he hadn't even known Sarah had a son. Nevertheless, he followed the lad to the living room, where two teenagers were sat side by side on a sofa. Benton's gaze drifted past them to where Sarah was settled on an armchair. It was obvious that she had been crying. With a quick flick of his head he indicated that the youngster's leave the room. As they did so he stood in front of the chair, automatically adopting a military stance.

"Hello again, Sarah," he said awkwardly, "How times have changed."

"You're telling me," she replied, smiling weakly. "You look well."

"You look fantastic. I – I didn't know you had a son."

"I adopted him. It's a long story."

"It usually is. I expect there was an alien invasion involved if _you_ decided to adopt."

"Isn't there always?"

_The first time Harry asked her to marry him he had been drunk. It was a few days after he had collected her from Aberdeen, and he had just been forced to inform her of Mike's suicide. The memories had come flooding back, and she watched as he reached for the whiskey. She had laughed it off and pushed him away gently. _

_The second time he had been serious, he even got down on one knee. She had been temporarily stunned into silence. She could see the earnest light behind his eyes, the belief that they could live in domestic bliss, settle down, have a family. She knew she could never live like that, but it didn't make seeing the disappointment in his eyes any easier to handle._

_The third and final time, it was spontaneous. They were older, wiser (supposedly), and had just finished a picnic in Hyde Park. They were elated on weak white wine and sunshine, and were laughing helplessly as Sarah recounted Luke's first time on a bus. This time when she turned him down he responded with a cheerful grin. That was the last time she saw him._

"What happened?" she asked shakily.

"He had a heart attack. It's… been a bit of a shock to all of us, but according to his doctor he's been having health problems for at least six months."

"He never said anything. Last time I saw him he was just ordinary, happy, healthy Harry."

"Well, you know what he's like – was like. We ex-army types never complain."

"You _ex-army types_ don't know the difference between stoicism and stupidity."

"Yes ma'am."

He stood to attention once more, but Sarah didn't miss the furtive look he gave his watch. She sighed.

"I know; you're on the duty round. You'd better go."

"Thank you, Miss Smith."

"If you need somewhere to stay tonight, there's a spare room here."

As it was, Benton did return to Ealing for the night. Sarah was all too happy to put him up, and Luke was eager to hear stories from the soldier's UNIT days. After he finished telling the story of the giant robot, Luke sat forwards, twisting his hands nervously in his lap.

"Uh, Mr Benton, John…"

"Call me Benton."

"Yeah, sure, well… Clyde said…" Luke gulped, and then the teen's next sentence came out in a rush. "Clyde said that Mum and Harry were friends with benefits, and I don't know what that means."

Benton gaped. "What did you just say?"

"Maria got angry after he suggested it, but then she thought for a moment and burst out laughing, and Clyde joined in, and I still don't know what the joke is…"

Benton put his hands up to calm the boy.

"Okay, just a moment. Tell me Luke, did Harry ever stay the night?"

"Yeah, loads."

Benton chuckled. "Good one Harry, I didn't think he had it in him."

Luke was still looking none the wiser, and Benton groaned inwardly at the prospect of filling in the boy. He definitely needed to have a word with Sarah about Luke's education.

**A/N: the next chapter will be about Benton, and my idea for the story behind his name.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Sergeant Benton was a regular character in the Third Doctor era, and appeared in the early episodes with the Fourth Doctor. His first name was never stated in the series, but a variety of other media used the name 'John'. He was one of UNIT's faithful, extremely loyal, and often willing to go against orders to help his friends, particularly the Doctor. His most famous quote is from 'The Three Doctors', from the first time he went inside the TARDIS:_

_Doctor: Well Sergeant? Aren't you going to say it's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside? Everybody else does._

_Benton: Well, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?_

**Sergeant Jonathon Robert Benton of UNIT**

"_Uh, Mr Benton, John…"_

"_Call me Benton."_

Jonathon Benton. On the face of it, there was nothing wrong with the name. John was a good, serviceable name. Anyone could respect a man named John.

_Except his name had come from his father, the father he'd never met._

Now, Benton… that had come from his step-father, the man his mother had married when he was just a baby, the man who brought him up. John was the name of the man who left; Benton was the one who stayed behind.

When he was just a nipper, people had called him Bobby, from his middle name, but that was too childish to carry with him to the army. So he introduced himself as Benton. John went on the army, and eventually the UNIT records, but barely anybody knew that was his name.

In the army, he had flourished. He had been promoted quickly through the ranks: Private Benton, Corporal Benton, Sergeant Benton… he had been Sergeant Benton for a long time. When he was promoted again, he had been a bit sad to lose the title. Warrant Officer Benton didn't have quite the same ring to it.

But the name John had clung to him like a shadow, and in a time where it was no longer proper to use last names in familiar company…

He had idly considered changing his name, but what would be the point? Even if he did become, for example, Samuel Benton, would that change anything? He would know in his heart that he was really John, and it would continue to haunt him.

But overall, he was, forever Benton.


End file.
